Topsy Turvey
by XSpike4evaX
Summary: For Willow their relaltionship isn't simple, for Spike there's honesty there. [Winner of the best NC-17 fic at the Willowy Goodness & No Rest For The Wicked Awards on LJ]


Topsy Turvey

A small sigh passed her lips as her fingers worked through the soft curls of his hair; Spike liked her finger in his hair. He smiled against her skin, his mouth working at her pulse point a slow, deliberate caress.

His hand palmed her breast and Willow shivered, her fingers tightening in his hair for a moment.

"Any requests, love? An old favourite or a new one?"

"Do you have a new one?"

"I do." He kissed her, slowly, drowsily, as though he had all the time in the world to do so.

She was breathless. "Tell me."

Spike couldn't get over having divulged this secret to her. He remembered vividly spending hour after hour, day after day searching for just the right word to describe a specific feeling, the exact sound of Cecily's laugh and the precise way she looked with the sun slanting on her face. It had all come to nothing in the end; Cecily may have been beautiful, he may have loved her but she did not inspire, not like his girl did. Spike didn't find himself struggling for words when he was with Willow; they came to him as bountiful as the stars.

His lips brushed her ear as he spoke. "The first time we were alone together…"

"Making love…" his thumb stroked along her eyebrow.

"Holding on to each other…" His voice rumbled at her throat. "Not wanting to let go."

Spike angled his mouth over hers, his tongue sweeping along her bottom lip drawing it into his mouth and suckling lightly. "I wanted that night forever…."

She shuddered against him kissing him back. Spike continued to recite, his lips moving against hers, his words drifting over her tongue, devouring her as surely as his lips did.

"Let the stars banish the sun."

A cool hand smoothed over her chest, his fingers tracing the underside of her breast creeping up to her nipple with a delicate touch. "I've never touched a woman who mattered, only you."

His mouth moved from her throat, his tongue trailing down her sternum curling around her breast until she arched against him with a low moan. "You're a piece that was torn from the morning..."

Stretching out above her Spike speared his fingers through her hair combing it back from her face to spread out over the pillow. "…the red of the dawn in your hair."

Warm fingers trailed down his spine and Spike arched his back chasing the fleeting sensation. Dropping his head he kissed her again, exploring ever corner and crevice of her mouth his tongue tangling with hers until her need to breathe was too much, forcing him to pull back.

He let out a low groan burying his face at her throat. "I want you, I want you, I want you; in a bed full of sunlight and moonbeams..."

Willow trembled, the raw emotion of his voice hitting something inside her, causing it to loosen and break between her legs.

"Where I've got to lie down with you soon…" His hand caressed her arm down to her wrist, lifting it and bringing it to his lips for a courtly kiss before threading their fingers together, their hands palm to palm.

"…In a dream of a sweet afternoon."

"Spike…. Spike…" she was gasping already, a thickening coil of tension in the pit of her stomach and her inner muscles fluttering, clutching, trying to clamp down on the sensation of his voice inside her.

"I'll dance with you in the starlight…"

Soft kisses scattered over her stomach and Willow's hips lifted to meet them her muscles clenching and twitching beneath the skin. Spike shifted lower between her already splayed legs. He stroked her hipbone with the pad of his thumb, his fingers drifting down to her legs, caressing the smooth skin with slow, lingering movements.

Tilting his head Spike pressed an open mouth kiss to her inner thigh. "I'll taste the dew on your thighs…" He took that moment to pause and really taste her; Willow cried out, her hands fisting in his hair again as a tremor rocked through her body.

She was helpless to control her reactions to him, her body straining towards him desperate for more. He settled himself above her his hips shifting in the cradle of her thighs. Blue eyes, so dark they were almost black and flecked with yellow stared down at her, his forehead rippling but not quite changing to full out ridges.

Pleasure swamped her, from between her legs to the tips of her toes and the ends of her hair when he slid into her something between a growl and groan and a purr coming from him, rolling over her hot skin.

"I'll bury myself inside you…"

It was where he liked to be, the closest a demon like him would ever get to heaven. Although Spike didn't think the actual place would be a patch on his girl. So warm and soft she was, her body so willing, so welcoming; burning him up.

"…And yield to the flood of desire."

His hips rocked slowly, gently, hardly moving at all; but Willow felt him in every nerve ending. Sometimes she felt that Spike was more a part of her than she was. The lazy, languid movements could have lulled her to sleep if it wasn't for the fact that every part of her was wide awake, humming with awareness, vibrating with urgency, longing for release.

She was panting, her fingers biting into his flesh, but Spike didn't mind, the stinging pain just amplified his pleasure. Those beautiful green eyes were fever bright as she stared up at him, wanting, waiting, needing him.

Spike could hardly believe how much he loved her, how much he needed her. She was his everything and he couldn't be without her, not now he knew what it was like to love someone who would never leave him.

"You'll carry me into your world…"

It was a world as soft and feathered as a birds nest, a world in which he was the centre, the beginning and the end. Spike kissed away the tears that glistened on her cheeks; she knew how he loved her and he could understand that a love as deep and fierce as his could overwhelm her sometimes.

There was something wrong with her and Willow knew it, everything in her head was a muddle, all topsy turvey. His poems were beautiful and he wrote them for her. How could she feel anything other than affection for someone who could find in her a beauty she had never seen? But he would insist on reciting them like this, in a parody of making love with whispered words against her skin, in a voice that burrowed itself inside her and caressed her heart until she didn't know what she felt any more.

She lost track of time sometimes, but Willow was certain it had been over a year since Spike had taken her away from Sunnydale, was Buffy still looking for her or had she been given up as lost?

Nothing was simple any more, all her emotions a multicolored kaleidoscope of thoughts and feelings. The one honest truth in her life was Spike's love and it terrified Willow, for while it was frightening in and of itself, sometimes she found herself embracing it too.

His eyes met hers and for one moment she was sure she stopped breathing and her heart stopped beating; for there was a stark, startling honesty there and in the words he spoke as gentle fingers stroked along her cheek.

"…You're soul is my cross to bear."


End file.
